


Do You Believe in Magic?

by RileyC



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-18
Updated: 2010-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:55:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC/pseuds/RileyC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a legend in Cornwall that one should never harm a raven, for it may be King Arthur, come back to us again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Believe in Magic?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maverick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/gifts).



The old woman paused, resting for a moment and drawing a sense of peace from the broken, tumbled down stone walls that were all that remained of the castle. A ruin, true, but a glorious one, and as she stood there, the brisk gusts off the sea whipping at her long, white hair, for a moment the past was present and all the splendid pageantry dazzled her eyes and rang in her ears, so real she felt she could have reached out to touch it.

In the next instant, the sound of scuffling footsteps, rocks dislodged and tumbling down the cliff, scattered her dream and she turned to watch a young man clamber atop the hill. Unaware of any observer, the young man - sturdy, nothing terribly remarkable about him - danced around the field waving a stick, no doubt imagining himself as one of those fabled knights, long since gone to dust.

The coarse cry of a raven caught her attention, drew it away from the boy, and she tracked the bird as it winged its way through the clear, cold sky, wheeling and diving as if only for the joy of it, the light catching its ebony feathers and making them gleam like silver. She smiled, watching - gasping as a rock sailed through the air, nearly striking the bird. Another stone flew through the air, driving it off, and the woman had her mouth open to shout at the boy, scold him fiercely, but the words died unspoken as a small falcon - and her lips curved with a smile as she knew it for a merlin - seemed to dart out of nowhere, shrieking at the boy, almost beating him with its wings as he flailed about and screamed, trying to get away from the ferocious talons that ripped at him.

She called out then, "Hey! Let him be now, little bird. That's enough now."

It screamed again, flew into the air and circled several times as if in a huff before coming to light on her outstretched arm, preening a bit as she stroked its brown feathers. "Good bird you," she murmured to it, watching as the boy slowly got to his feet, looking around, frightened and uncertain. "Don't be thinking you've been ill-treated, lad," she called to him. "It was an evil thing you were doing."

Petulant, the boy said, "It was just a stupid old bird."

"You know that for a fact, do you? Have you never been told not to raise a hand to any raven for it could be King Arthur you'd be harming?"

"King Arthur's just a story."

"Oh? That's why you're up here, playing at being a knight in Camelot, because it's just a story you don't believe?"

Looking a bit shamefaced now, scuffing his toe into the ancient earth, he shrugged, mumbled, "I didn't mean anything."

"Maybe you didn't, but it's harm you could have done all the same. You'd best get yourself home now, and don't come here again unless you can respect it."

He scoffed at that command, defiant with it. "You don't own it."

"I own it as much as anyone, more than you. Now run along, lad. You're trying my patience." She let an ominous note infuse that last, lips curving again as she saw the uncertainty cross his face.

"What, you some kind of witch?" he asked, the dismissive scorn in his voice not at all convincing.

"Some kind," she said, aware of the falcon's cocked head, its bright eyes trained on her as though understanding every word. "What, boy, no one's ever told of Morgan the witch, Morgan of the _fae_?"

"Don't believe in witches," the boy said, but he was slowly backing away.

"Ah," she said with relish, "but what if I believe in _you_?" Her laughter rang out as the boy finally turned tail and scurried back the way he'd come.

Looking around, she spotted the raven, perched on one of the ancient, crumbling walls, keen black eyes trained on them. She smiled, raised her arm higher. "Go," she told the falcon, and felt a sweet pang as she watched the birds take wing, flying over the ruins, out over the gleaming sea, darting and diving and dancing on the air.

"Go," she whispered once more, finally losing sight of them in the sun.

Breathing a sad and weary sigh, grieving a world that would never come again, the old woman picked her way along the worn and stony path, and continued on her way.


End file.
